


Rebellion

by mcnegan



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Assault, Blood and Injury, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, JDM, Jeffrey Dean Morgan - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:55:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28051263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcnegan/pseuds/mcnegan
Summary: Stumbling into that trailer gave you a false sense of security until you realize you aren’t alone.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)
> 
> **You have no choice but to stay in the trailer you happen upon, no matter how much the swarm of zombies outside seem like better company than who you find inside.**

Shots ring out and whiz past you as your group ambushes the Sanctuary, bringing with you a barrage of bullets and vengeance. The few Saviors present leap, duck, and dive in all directions; desperately trying to escape certain death as war breaks out before their eyes.

Your sights are trained on the man in the leather jacket, the one diving down the flight of stairs and rolling nimbly across the gravel to obscure himself behind a parked truck. Paying particular attention to his position, you aim your sub-machine gun and let out a stream of lead in his direction. Unsure whether or not you’ve managed to land a single shot, you turn your attention from Negan back to the rest of the Saviors. Occasionally, you aim a spray of bullets at the lurking walkers to keep them far enough away from your friends below you.

Perched atop the car Gabriel had driven through the gates, you have a pretty decent vantage point and an even better range in comparison to your comrades on the ground. You check your rounds, sure that you have enough ammunition to last you at least a few more minutes before you need to switch weapons. Down below, you can hear two voices arguing, but you pay no mind to their angry tones as you refocus on your mission. Before you have a chance to resume your staccato shots, the vehicle beneath you lurches and sends you tumbling right off the back.

You hit the ground with a harsh grunt, remaining motionless as the throbbing pain of your fall courses through your spine, hip, and right leg. Rocking back and forth to ease the discomfort of your jostled body, it takes you a moment to realize just how close the gargling, wobbling biters have gotten. Your head whips back and forth, frantically trying to find your dropped weapon, though your heart skips a beat when you finally spot it – several feet away from you, but only inches from the approaching swarm.

Just as you scramble to your feet, you hear a familiar voice shouting your name. Glancing in the direction of the car you had been on top of minutes ago, you see that it’s beginning to roll away. Beside the open passenger door, Gabriel jogs; trying to keep up with the moving vehicle as he waves you on and tries to tell you to run to safety.

Your brows furrow in confusion and you shift your eyes to the driver’s seat where you see Gregory behind the wheel – the fucking traitor. The second you will your legs into motion and sprint for the car, Gabriel just barely manages to fold his body inside as Gregory guns the engine and rips out of the Sanctuary grounds, leaving you in a cloud of dust.

“Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck_ you!” you holler in a rage, now terrified as your window for escape swiftly slams shut.

Without your machine gun, your chances of getting out of here have slimmed considerably. However, you’re still armed with the hatchet dangling on your hip and the Ruger tucked into the waistband of your pants. Slipping the hatchet from your belt, you wield the weapon savagely, smashing through the softened skulls of the nearing hoard.

Blood and decaying flesh sprays everywhere, coating you in a filthy layer of moisture as you fight your way through the hungry crowd. With no other choice but to venture deeper into the Sanctuary, you zero in on the nearby trailer praying that the door is unlocked.

Chopping your way through the mass of putrid bodies, you eventually reach the few steps leading up to the trailer’s door. You climb them, launching your body towards the handle and nearly bursting into tears when it turns easily beneath your hand. Wrenching the door open, you kick at the few zombies snapping at your heels and slam the door shut after tumbling through it, closing yourself off in the safety of the small building.

“Fuck that stupid, backstabbing, slimy little fucker,” you hiss to yourself, cursing Gregory for landing you in this situation.

Rolling to your feet, you stand on your toes to peek through the diamond-shaped window and observe the growing throng of undead outside the door. You sigh tiredly as you drop your backpack from your shoulders and toss it to the floor with a dull thud.

With your hatchet still dangling from your fingers, you pace towards the other end of the dark trailer in the hopes of locating another exit that will put you out of the way of the danger knocking on the door and lead you to safety; whether outside the gates or inside the compound. Squinting in the pitch black, you can’t see a damn thing and resort to sliding a hand along the walls to feel out any possible doors.

“There’s no other way out,” a disembodied voice rumbles from somewhere about knee-level in the blinding darkness.

You gasp and stumble backwards, promptly tripping over something heavy behind you and falling unceremoniously on your ass. The impact of your blunder sends a swirl of dust into the air that catches in a beam of sunlight leaking in from the spaces between the wood slats boarding up the wall to your left. That same light illuminates the tawny eyes and sweaty, bloody face of the man who climbs to his feet and rises to his full height above you.

You immediately recognize Negan’s distinct features. Most prominent are the deep dimples carved into his cheeks as he grins wickedly at you. His smile may be wide and shark-like, but it contradicts the blatant hatred surging in his eyes.

“I hope you got your shittin’ pants on,” he intones lowly, taking a step closer to your sprawled form.

“What?” you practically wheeze.

“Your shittin’ pants. I hope you’re wearing ‘em right now,” he pauses momentarily. “'Cause _you_ …are about to shit your pants.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you bite out, unable to hide your exasperation as you wonder how someone can crack jokes at a time like this.

You subtly scuffle backwards a few inches when Negan takes several more steps towards you until his booted feet are planted between your own and you practically need to look straight up to maintain eye contact with him. He peers down at you, his grin still in place as he licks his lips and tucks the tip of his tongue into the corner of his mouth.

Suddenly coming to your senses, you have a mighty desire to remove yourself from your current vulnerable position. Not giving Negan a chance to make a move, you wrench your body as far from him as you can before hauling yourself to your feet. The hand holding your small axe remains at your side, trying to conceal the weapon behind your thigh as Negan watches your nervous movement with amusement.

“You’re one of Rick’s people, right?” he asks, obviously already aware of that fact. “Yeah, I knew I recognized that pretty face. You were just out there trying to kill my men. I know for a damn fact you tried to kill me.”

You see no point in denying the accusation, but rather turn quite hostile at Negan’s accurate assumption. “I am. And I would’ve succeeded in killing you if your newest recruit wasn’t a dickless coward who ran away like a little pussy and ruined my plans.”

Negan merely chuckles at your assessment of Gregory, pacing towards you and forcing you to press up against the far wall of the trailer. Feeling trapped, you grip your weapon tighter and hold it between yourself and Negan, the gesture a clear warning for him to back off.

“I’d put that down, if I were you,” Negan states blandly, nodding to the axe wavering in your shaking fist.

“Well then it’s a good thing you aren’t me because I’d never do something that dumb,” you retort.

A breathy laugh escapes Negan upon hearing your feisty reply, though his words are more terse when he speaks again. “Honey, I really don’t wanna have to hurt you. But if you force my hand, I will,” he assures you. “I got a fucked leg and if you make me limp my way over there to kick your ass, we’re both gonna have a bad time.”

“Don’t come anywhere near me,” you counter heatedly, bracing your feet and ready for a fight.

“Do you have any idea who the hell you’re talking to?” Negan demands, his tone momentarily losing almost all of it’s previous humor. “You and the piss patrol come into _my_ home, kill _my_ men, try to blow _my_ fuckin’ ass away and then you have the nerve to fuckin’ stand here making demands? I fail to see how that’s fair. Pretty fuckin’ rude if you ask me.”

The swift shift in Negan’s demeanor from playful to angry and back to jocular is giving you whiplash and you’re already exhausted by the rollercoaster ride his mood swings have you on.

“You really are a sociopath,” you muse aloud.

“You have no idea,” Negan agrees flatly.

In the blink of an eye, Negan is pouncing on you, giving you no warning for his strike. You shriek as he grabs you and yanks you off balance, using your surprise to his advantage. Slamming your torso over the surface of the small table against the wall, he wrenches both your arms behind your back. You call out at the searing pain as he presses down on your trapped limbs with one hand, silently telling you not to move.

You howl in protest and try to squirm away when Negan tears your hatchet from your hand, though your attempt at escape only causes you to hurt yourself further. Your hips twist away from Negan, trying to hide the pistol still tucked into the back of your pants. A frustrated growl rips from your throat when Negan instantly spots the weapon and removes that from your possession as well.

Negan lets you up then, taking a step back as you try weakly to swing at him and land a punch. Looking on as you huff in annoyance, you watch Negan press the release on your weapon and let the magazine drop into his palm. He tips the cartridge, raising his eyebrows when he sees the gleaming bullets inside.

“Loaded,” he announces, wagging the magazine in an admonishing gesture. “And what were you planning on doing with this, I wonder?”

“Give it back to me and find out,” you hiss boldly.

“I like you, sweetheart,” Negan laughs, reloading the gun and sliding it under his leather jacket to tuck it into the front of his gray pants. “You got balls. And you aren’t afraid of me. Everyone else is and it’s a goddamn disappointment.”

“Wow, I’m so glad I pass muster,” you grunt with a roll of your eyes.

Gliding along the wall, you try to skirt around Negan when he turns his back to look out the same window you’d peered through minutes ago. While your eyes are otherwise occupied in the hunt for something you can use to defend yourself, Negan turns back around and spots your efforts right away.

“Ain’t shit in here you can use against me,” he informs you in a bored voice. “Hate to burst your bubble, but we’re just gonna have to be civil.”

“Yeah, you’re doing a really good job of that already,” you murmur sarcastically as you slip down the wall and take a seat on the ground.

Negan follows suit, dropping slowly on account of his wounded leg as he sits diagonally from you against the opposite wall. You tip your head back, thumping it softly against the hollow wall as you try to come up with some way you can get out of this godforsaken trailer and away from Negan. The constant muffled reminder of the surrounding walkers just beyond the walls is proving to be a massive barrier as they just don’t seem to be going away.

“What’s your name?” Negan asks casually.

“Why?” you snap, eyeing him cautiously.

“Damn, I’m just trying to be friendly,” he complains, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, fine. I’ll just call you Little Shit. That’s exactly what you are, a little shit.”

“Charming,” you mumble, eyes cast upward to the ceiling.

“So, Little Shit,” he begins, immediately making you want to pull your hair out. “Who were you before this all happened?”

Sighing deeply, you carefully consider how to answer before you do. “Does it matter? It’s not who I am anymore, so who cares.”

“Shit, girl…you must’ve been a blast at parties. This conversation has me feeling all kinds of warm and fuzzy inside,” Negan jests sardonically.

An uncomfortable silence falls between you, though it doesn’t last long before Negan’s inexhaustible mouth is at it again. You consider plugging your ears and humming to block out his deep voice, but you decide against the childish gesture and just endure Negan’s verbal torture. You suffer through his droll words, keeping a careful eye on him as you’re sure his forced conversation is simply a tactic to catch you off guard.

“You know, your friend Rick is an asshole,” Negan taunts with a smile.

“ _You’re_ an asshole,” you growl.

“Yeah, I am,” he concurs with a grin. “You’re awfully defensive there, doll. You standing up for your boyfriend? What, is Rick the Prick slipping you his little dick? We all know my dick is bigger than Rick’s, maybe you should join my side and I just might let you have a peek.”

Rolling your eyes with a groan, you don’t even dignify Negan’s rudeness with a response. Your arms cross tightly across your chest and you stretch your legs out, nearly brushing Negan’s wounded thigh as you get more comfortable.

“Where’d Rick get all those guns he just blew in here with?” Negan wonders, his tone interrogatory. “I took all his weapons the last time I paid you a visit.”

“Guess you aren’t too thorough,” you retort.

“Oh honey, I am very thorough. Believe me,” Negan announces confidently, tossing a wink in your direction.

Negan only allows a few seconds of quiet before he’s speaking again and you can’t believe you haven’t pulled a muscle yet from how hard you have to keep rolling your eyes at the topics he chooses for conversation.

“How old are ya? You look pretty young,” he murmurs, undeterred by your refusal to join in on his one-sided exchange. “I used to be a college volleyball coach. Those girls looked just like you. Runnin’ around in their tight shirts and short little shorts. Mmm, I miss seeing all those tits and asses bouncing. I bet you’d look real good dressed like that, showin’ a little skin…”.

Negan’s crude thought trails off as his eyes scan down the length of your body and he bites his lip. Twisting your face into a disgusted grimace, you pull your legs away from him, tucking your knees below your chin. You prop your arms atop your legs and rest your head on your folded forearms, looking away from Negan, who still refuses to stop talking.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I just rubbed one out right where you’re sittin’…just to calm down. You might even be sitting on my jizz,” he teases. “Good thing I did or there’d be some serious sexual tension between us, huh? More than there already is, of course. Bet you’d be crawling all over me with all those pheromones or what-the-fuck-ever floatin’ around.”

“Jesus Christ,” you murmur under your breath, barely loud enough for Negan to hear.

He chuckles to himself, clearly entertained by your frustration. Though he stretches his leg in your direction and taps your boot with his own and tells you to lighten up, you still refuse to acknowledge the rambling idiot. Eventually, Negan seems to grow bored and shuts his mouth for at least a few minutes, but when he speaks again, he’s much less playful than he’d been earlier.

“I could’ve and _should’ve_ killed you the second your ass came tumbling in here. I still can,” he threatens, childishly lashing out at your reluctance to play his mind games.

Prompted by Negan’s threat, you finally turn your attention to him, your eyes clashing with his when you meet his fiery gaze. “Stop making idle threats and do something then,” you bite back, unafraid of the man sitting feet away from you armed with both your weapons and his own.

“Careful what you wish for, Princess,” Negan murmurs though he doesn’t make any effort to move or fulfill his threat.

He stares you down for a moment before the wide grin that blooms across his face ruins his intimidating expression. You find yourself growing more and more uneasy when you realize how unpredictable Negan’s behavior is and you really aren’t sure what to make of him. Even when he shuts his eyes and leans his head back with a deep sigh, you’re hesitant to let your guard down. It isn’t until Negan’s breathing evens out and you’re sure he isn’t secretly watching you that you let yourself slip into a light sleep while you wait out the biters still blocking your only route for escape.

• • • • • • • • • •

When your eyelids flutter open, you realize the interior of the trailer has grown much darker. Assuming that night has fallen, you feel disappointed in the knowledge that you likely won’t be getting out of here any time soon; it’s much safer to venture outside once the sun rises again. Rubbing your eyes, you allow your gaze to shift to the other side of the small space, nearly flinching when you find Negan already awake, watching you like a hawk. You try to ignore his piercing gaze, rising to your feet and popping your sore joints as you stretch.

“Gotta piss,” you whisper to yourself, though Negan catches your words.

“Hope you don’t have performance anxiety, because your only option is to drop your pants right here in front of me,” he teases with a Cheshire-like grin, obviously in full support of the notion.

You can’t help the way your thighs clench at the thought of being any level of naked in front of him, or the way your brain automatically entertains the idea of him being naked in front of you. Shaking the unwanted thoughts from your head, you regard Negan over your shoulder as you shuffle deeper into the trailer in search of the most sanitary way to relieve yourself.

“You’re disgusting,” you rebuke, tossing an empty box out of your path as you rifle through the piles of rubbish.

“Nah, disgusting is the way that very idea turns you on. It’s written all over your pretty little face,” Negan accuses, pulling himself off the ground as he watches you closely. “I bet if I put my hand down those tight little jeans, I’d find a whole lot of cream between your thighs.”

You’re appalled at Negan’s vulgarity and brash words, but even more than that, you’re thankful that it’s too dark for him to spot the bright red flush in your cheeks. Regardless of the low visibility, you turn away from Negan, earning a knowing chuckle from him as he leans on the edge of the small table across the trailer. You don’t miss the way he props his bat right beside his lean thigh, making sure to keep it within reach.

“I wonder what else gets you fuckin’ wet, I bet you’re into some really freaky-deaky shit,” Negan blurts out, crossing his arms as he looks at you curiously.

“Oh my god, _stop_ ,” you whine, unable to stop the pathetic tone of your voice as Negan’s licentious words wear on you.

“Alright, alright,” he cedes with a laugh. “Only because I’m afraid if I make you blush any more, you’re gonna burst into flames.”

You breathe a sigh of relief when Negan does finally relent and stops his endless and inappropriate flirting – momentarily, anyway. He even gives you the courtesy of turning his back to give you some privacy while you make good use of an empty bucket you find, though it doesn’t make the experience any less awkward. Thankfully, Negan brushes it off, not bringing any attention to the uncomfortable situation.

“I’m fuckin’ hungry…and not just for some pussy,” Negan grins, bending backwards as he laughs at his own quip.

“I have some food in my bag,” you mumble lowly, gesturing to the pack sitting near the door as you slowly make your way over, passing right past where Negan remains propped against the table.

“You got any more weapons stuffed in there? Somethin’ you might wanna try to kill me with?” Negan grunts, straightening up, his body language indicating his apprehension as you snatch up the ratty bag.

“Not unless I’m gonna lob an apple at your head or make you choke on an energy bar,” you sass, cocking your hip as you hold the aforementioned foods in one hand.

Negan nods with a smirk, beckoning you over with two crooked fingers, his leather glove squeaking with the movement. “Funny. I’ve had people try to kill me with less. Can’t be too careful,” he laments.

You snort at Negan’s comment, stopping a few feet away as you hold out the food to him, something he takes immediate notice of. “It’s not much, but it’s all I have,” you mutter with a shrug.

Rather than take the proffered food from your hand, Negan wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you almost entirely off your feet, forcing you to catch yourself with your hands on his chest. You gasp at the sudden and forceful movement, and again when Negan’s free hand reaches behind you to tightly grab a handful of your ass. Using his firm grip, he pulls you further into him, lifting your hips against his own and pressing the hard steel of your pilfered gun into your pelvis.

“What are you standing all the way over there for? I won’t bite ya…unless, of course, you ask nicely,” he chuckles. “I do love me a gal with some kinks.”

You merely gulp loudly at the predicament you find yourself in, your tiny fist clutching the food in your hand so hard it’s a wonder you aren’t turning it to mush. Staring into Negan’s amber eyes, your breath catches at the heat you find there, knowing it must match the fire burning in your own.

“Open your mouth,” Negan whispers breathily.

“Negan,” you squeak shakily, suddenly nervous.

“Relax. And get your mind out of the gutter,” he chides with a smirk as he plucks the apple from your ferocious grip before holding the ruby-red fruit near your parted lips. “Eat.”

You try to obey his command, though rather than open your mouth, you reach for the apple dangling from his long fingers. He promptly snatches it away, holding it above your head and just out of your reach. Leveling a stern look at you, he waits for you to drop your hand before he offers the fruit to you once more.

“Open,” he instructs again, more forcefully this time, punctuating the command with a solid squeeze to the flesh of your backside still clutched in his gloved hand.

“Why are you doing this?” you huff with exasperation.

“Because I can’t let you starve and die,” he taunts mischievously, purposely acting oblivious. “Now be a good girl, open your mouth, and bite the fuckin’ apple.”

Though there’s humor in his words, Negan’s dominant tone leaves you no choice but to obey. Swallowing thickly, you refrain from rolling your eyes at the controlling man as you part your lips and press your teeth into the firm apple. Pulling away, you remove a small chunk from the apple, chewing it slowly as the juicy flesh leaves a sticky trail dripping down your chin.

Negan watches the clear fluid dribbling from your bottom lip before he digs his own teeth into the apple, holding it in his mouth as he uses his now free hand to sweep the sweet liquid from your skin with his thumb. Taking the fruit in his hand once more, he pops his glistening thumb into his mouth and slurps loudly before taking a sizable bite from the apple. Seeing Negan in the same position with juice spilling from his mouth, you just barely resist the urge to lick the the nectar from his lips. Offering you several more bites of the apple, he carelessly tosses the core onto the table before using both hands to pull you between his spread thighs.

“See? I’m looking out for you even though you tried to kill me,” he teases.

“Oh, get over it,” you sigh. “You’re still breathing and bitching, so stop being butthurt about it.”

“Butthurt? Boy, does that give me ideas,” Negan purrs, leering at you hungrily as he crushes your body against his.

“God, you’re gross,” you grumble, planting your palms against his soft stomach to put some distance between the two of you.

“Baby, you don’t have to lie to me, I won’t judge you. I know you think I’m good lookin’. Hell, so do I,” he states, shifting one hand to grip the back of your head so he can breathe the next words into your ear. “It ain’t a sin for you to think about me sliding my big ass dick into your sweet little pussy. I’m sure you’ve pictured it once or twice since you stumbled on in here. Trust me, I’ve given it some deep thought,” he confesses.

You don’t miss the way Negan emphasizes that particular word and you feel your cheeks flush once more as you push away from him and free yourself from his wandering hands. Pressing your back against the opposite wall, you try to control your racing heart as Negan watches you with a knowing smile. He isn’t wrong. You do find him extremely attractive and while his obnoxious confidence is somewhat nauseating, it’s inexplicably magnetic.

Opposite sides or not, you can’t help the curiosity that has you wondering just how Negan’s beard would feel scratching and burning along your thighs. You can’t stop the invading thoughts about what he looks like beneath all those layers and just how much he’d stretch your body when he entered you. Horrified by your own thoughts, you try to put as much space as possible between you and Negan – clearly being near him short-circuited your brain and made you incapable of thinking logical thoughts.

“It’s cool, I get it. You gotta play coy and convince yourself you don’t wanna fuck the enemy because that would just be oh-so-scandalous. Gotta protect your upstanding reputation, right?” Negan practically giggles. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop being Queen Of Denial, Cleopatra. Come talk to me and I’ll show you how good I can make you feel.”

Affronted by Negan making a mockery of you, you whirl on him, snapping at him. “You’re really fucking cocky, you know that?”

“Oh yeah, I’m at least 8 inches of cocky, doll,” he grunts as he slips his jacket from his shoulders and drops his weight to the floor. “You wanna see just how _cocky_ I am?”

You hate yourself for the way your core clenches when Negan grabs at his crotch. Though with the obvious size of his girth even through his pants, who can blame you? Trying to ignore the throbbing, burning sensation between your legs, you tuck yourself against the wall and turn away from Negan who continues to watch you. Not wanting to take this dicey conversation any further, you bury your head against you arm and try to get comfortable as you settle in for the night.

“You change your mind, you know where to find me, babygirl,” Negan whispers across the trailer with a chuckle, clearly entertained by his own jest.

“If you don’t shut up and let me get some sleep, I’ll cut your big dick off and shove it down your throat,” you snarl, flipping around to level a fierce glare at Negan.

Holding his hands up defensively, he tucks his arms beneath his head and fluffs his jacket, using it as a pillow. He takes a deep breath and from the wicked smirk across his face, you’re already bracing yourself for whatever immature thing he’s going to say next.

“Hope you dream about me,” he snorts, unable to get through the sentence without laughing.

“Negan, I swear to fucking God,” you growl, ready to throttle him.

“Hey, you better watch your attitude, sweetheart,” he warns seriously. “Don’t make me come over there and teach you a lesson about respect.”

Huffing at him, you turn back over, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave you alone. The room falls silent for a long while until you begin shifting, flipping back and forth, trying unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Your movements grab Negan’s attention and his words reach out through the darkness to halt your restless activity.

“You done having a fuckin’ fit over there?” he barks, evidently annoyed by all the noise you’re making.

“Not everyone is used to sleeping on the damn floor like an animal,” you respond snidely, staring daggers at him over your shoulder.

Negan laughs, the sounds carrying a distinct air of pretentiousness as he leans more firmly against his balled up jacket. “You’re more than welcome to join me. Plenty comfortable over here. Plus, I sure wouldn’t mind pressing up against that fine ass body,” he offers.

“I’d rather snuggle up to one of those dead fucks outside,” you scoff.

The only response you receive is a low hum as Negan shuts his eyes and – for once – his mouth. He doesn’t move at all and eventually, his breathing evens out and you’re sure he’s asleep. You remain awake a while longer, listening to the sound of Negan’s steady, deep breaths and the residual sound of fleshy hands still banging against the exterior of the trailer.

The volume of walkers has noticeably decreased, but they’re certainly still present. Finally feeling tired enough to overlook how uncomfortable you are, you curl into yourself and fall asleep with no other choice but to wait out the hoard of undead keeping you trapped here with Negan.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things between you and Negan take an interesting and steamy turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

A low, distant rumbling drags you involuntarily from your restless sleep, vibrating the floor beneath you as it grows closer. Your aching joints scream in protest as you unfurl your limbs and sprawl across the dirty floor, trying to pinpoint the familiar sound. As it approaches and increases in volume, you sit up quickly, finally recognizing the sound: a motorcycle.

 _Daryl_.

Positive that at least one of your people have returned to look for you, you know you need to get outside right now. Sparing a glance in Negan’s direction, you find him still deep in slumber, his face lax and peaceful as his chest rises and falls rhythmically.

Creeping silently to your feet, you tiptoe past Negan, heading towards the locked door. You press your ear to the microscopic space between the door and the frame, making absolutely sure that the growling engine you hear does in fact belong to Daryl and not someone determined to hurt or kill you.

Among the sound of the bike, you hear shuffling and growling just beyond the door. Though the herd has definitely thinned, some walkers still remain. If you have any hope of getting out of here and reaching Daryl, you’re going to need a weapon. Turning towards Negan, you observe him for a moment before deciding you need to get at least one of the weapons he holds captive.

Sneaking over to him with light steps, you spot the gun peeking out in the space between his waistband and the hem of his white t-shirt. _Too risky_ , you muse, _and too loud_. Betwixt Negan’s massive body and the wall, you find your axe and his barbed bat; close enough to him to be dangerous if you attempt to extract them, but still with enough room for you to successfully grab the weapons if you’re very careful.

You crouch above Negan, one foot braced between his thighs and the other between the wall and his hip. Holding your breath, you ease forward, careful not to brush up against Negan’s sleeping form as you stretch your hands towards the coveted weapons. Your axe is closer to the wall, unlike the bat which is practically beneath Negan’s arm, so you opt to take only one weapon. When your fingers wrap around the sleek wooden handle of your hatchet, you stand up as swiftly as you can without making a single sound.

Exhaling softly, you maneuver your feet backwards and away from Negan, slinking back towards the door. The thunderous sound of the motorcycle encroaches and you begin to worry that the racket will rouse Negan and you’ll be caught. Before that happens, you reach the door, disengaging the lock with a suspiciously noisy metallic grind. You cringe at how loud the heavy lock sounds in the tiny space, your movements slow and sure as you try to muffle the scraping noise so as not to wake Negan.

From over your shoulder, you hear a sharp inhale and every muscle in your body seizes in fear. Swiveling your head round, you chance a look in Negan’s direction, apprehension constricting your chest as your eyes fall on him. Your tensed muscles nearly turn to liquid when you see that Negan is still asleep, though given his restlessness, you assume he won’t stay that way for long.

Keeping your gaze trained on Negan, your relief is short-lived when you pop the door open at the exact moment his eyes mimic the action. You freeze where you stand, leaving the door open about six inches as Negan rubs a hand down his scrunched face. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have only seconds to run before Negan spots you, but you can’t seem to convince your feet to move.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Negan sits up as he gazes at the strip of bright sunlight streaming in through the open door. It takes him a moment, but eventually he registers what’s going on as his eyes flick up to your stony form. Studying you with one hand on the doorknob and the other clutching your axe, you watch Negan’s eyes darken as the pieces fall into place.

“What the goddamn fuck do you think you’re fucking doing?!” he snarls dangerously, half-heartedly trying to keep his voice low so he doesn’t attract the walkers back towards the trailer.

You still can’t seem to move as Negan leaps to his feet, carelessly raising the volume of his voice as he hollers at you, cautioning you not to open the door any further. The booming sound of Negan’s words finally seems to knock you from your trance and you promptly disobey, choosing not to heed Negan’s warning as you ease the door further open.

The heavy metal creaks loudly, followed by the throaty sounds of the gathering undead outside. Bodies push towards you; disgusting, rotten fingers scrabbling for purchase against the flesh of your arm. Horror grasps you as the swarm closes in on you quickly and you eventually remember the weapon gripped in your sweaty hand. You only manage to take out one walker before Negan reaches you, yanking you back inside and pushing the stumbling bodies out of the open doorway.

Negan crashes the door shut with reverberating power before whirling on you. He takes hold of your throat, crushing the soft flesh with a painful grip before using impressive strength to lift you off your feet and slam your body directly to the ground. The air whooshes from your lungs as a result of Negan’s rough treatment, the impact rattling your bones. Negan looms over you, his face a frightening display; teeth bared and veins bulging in rage as he straddles your hips to pin you down.

Steadfastly deciding to change your haphazard plan, you choose another route of possible escape. Knowing Daryl is probably still somewhere close by, you open your mouth and let out the loudest scream you can manage.

Your feet kick frantically and screeches rip from your throat as you hope to attract Daryl’s attention. Though you know your commotion will also attract more biters, you know Daryl is capable of clearing them out of the way. With Negan distracted by his attempts to hold you down, he won’t even see Daryl coming.

Much to your dismay, between your screams, you notice the sounds of the motorcycle beginning to fade. The prospect of not getting out of here prompts you to scream even louder until Negan tightens the hand bracketing your throat, silencing your yells to a mere wheeze.

Unwilling to be stopped, you begin to flail, slamming your hands and feet against the floor to make as much noise as possible. Even though your tumult is going to attract walkers and condemn you to being trapped here with Negan even longer, you don’t care. If you aren’t getting out, neither is he.

“Shut up!” Negan growls at you, using his grip on your neck to shake your whole body.

You ignore Negan’s irate demand, fighting against his hold as you continue writhing beneath him. He lets go of your throat and slaps a sweaty palm over your mouth, though that only makes you scream louder in an attempt to force the sounds out, utilizing your burning lungs to overpower his muffling hand. Negan allows you to carry on for only a few more seconds before he pulls his hand from your face, cocks his arm, and backhands you across the cheek.

The shock of his slap shuts you up instantly, leaving you too stunned to make a sound. Taking advantage of your current stupefied state, Negan stands, lifting your body and dragging you to the far corner of the trailer. He loses his footing and stumbles, conveniently landing right beside his beloved bat. Crushing you with his weight over top of your body, Negan wields his bat threateningly, playing no games when he opens his mouth.

“One more fucking sound and I will fucking kill you,” he hisses. “Shut the fuck up.”

Seeing how enraged Negan is, you believe his every word. You have no doubt that he would have no problem wasting you. Finally ceasing your desperate cries for help, you fight back tears as you accept your failure. You also have to accept the fact that you’re stuck here, being held prisoner by someone who’s likely seconds away from crushing your skull. Either way, whether at the hands of the man pinning you down or not, you suddenly feel as though you’re going to die in this damn trailer.

Negan glares down at you, seemingly more disappointed than angry now as you’re surrounded by the sounds of the hoard just outside the door. His face falls and you find yourself wondering if he’d had the same thought you did – you’re not going to make it out of here.

Sighing deeply, he releases his crushing grip from your body and rolls off of you. He props his back against the wall, planting his boots beside your body where you remain curled near his feet. You glance at him for only a second though it’s long enough to take in his mussed up hair and the sheen of sweat covering his face from your little tussle.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” he grunts, his tone still noticeably peeved.

“No, you’re not,” you whisper.

“I don’t hit women,” he defends angrily. “I told you I didn’t want to hurt you, but I’ll do what I need to to protect you.”

You sit up then, ready to fire back at Negan’s statement. “Protect me? From what? You don’t give a shit about my safety…you just don’t want me to get away from you,” you accuse. “Just so you can have the pleasure of killing me yourself, right? So you can drag my corpse back to Rick and remind him who you are, Negan?”

“Jesus, I’m not a fuckin’ monster,” he barks, taken aback by your harsh accusation. “The world is swirling down a giant fuckin’ toilet bowl and it’s on me to keep you sorry fucks from drowning. I meant what I said…the strong protect the weak.”

“Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking I’m weak,” you assure him, your voice calmer now. “Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean I’m weak.”

Your eyes meet Negan’s in a look of understanding, and you’re sure you see him nod slightly. It’s obvious he respects your tenacity, and in a way, you suppose you can respect him too. His words, albeit aggrandized to the point of ridiculousness, are sincere and genuine. He truly believes what he’s saying and though you know firsthand what kind of evil he’s capable of, you can respect that he chooses to use his power to lend a hand to those who need it just because he can.

Rolling your battered body from the floor, you occupy yourself by searching through the bank of cabinets hanging from the wall of the trailer. The first few shelves are mostly barren, offering nothing of use to you, but you keep looking. After a few minutes, you hear Negan shuffle then groan as he climbs to his feet, the pained sound leaving his mouth reminding you that he’d mentioned something about an injury.

You watch Negan approach, stopping beside you to bend over and press his palm to the lower portion of his thigh. He pulls his hand away and the light catches the crimson fluid staining his hand.

“Find anything good in there?” he wonders, changing the subject.

“You should let me look at that,” you offer softly, cringing when he moves past you and you spot the dark stain blotted across his leg.

“Is that just an excuse to get me out of my pants? All you have to do is ask,” he jests, reaching for his belt buckle. Negan chuckles when he notices your blushing cheeks in the low light and your mouth drops open in surprise. “It’s barely a flesh wound. A bullet just skimmed me. I wonder if it was one of yours.”

You snort at his taunt, slamming the cabinet door above your head shut. “If it was my bullet, I would’ve blown your whole leg off.”

Negan looks at you, feigning a look of being impressed as he closes in on you. “You’re sure about that, huh? I like a woman who knows how to handle a weapon,” he breathes, leering at you with a hot, hungry glare.

Trying to ignore the way Negan’s warm breath brushes over your clammy skin, you back up against the cabinets, though Negan gives you no room to step away from him. Your blood feels as though it’s boiling, rushing through your veins and coloring your skin as your uncontrollable lust spikes again. Heat gathers in your core and you have no illusions about how blatant your enthusiastic reaction to Negan’s proximity is.

“Bet you’d just love to get those hot little hands on me,” Negan teases breathlessly as he drags his scruff along your jaw to whisper in your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat when his warm fingers caress the skin above the waist of your jeans, skimming from your belly to your hip before dipping beneath the hem of your panties to trail across the top of your ass. The spicy smell of him mixes with the scent of sweat and leather in an intoxicating blend. All of your senses are feeling attacked and you find yourself unable to control anything your body is doing.

Your limbs vibrate, your chest heaves, and your thighs clench against the dampness soaking your panties. Negan purposely exhales against the shell of your ear, sending a powerful shiver down your spine as he pushes the tip of his nose into your hairline and breathes deeply.

“But…I think I can take care of this myself,” he states in a normal voice, pulling a roll of bandages out of the last cabinet as he steps away from you with a cruel smile.

A rush of breath passes through your parted lips and you turn to brace your palms on the edge of the lower cabinets. You stay there for a minute, fighting your shaky breathing and trying to pep talk your body into dousing the fire coursing through every inch of you. You shouldn’t want Negan, you know you shouldn’t, but his teasing is affecting you nonetheless. You’re not sure how much more you can take before your control snaps. Confident that you’re relaxed enough to face him, you turn towards Negan.

With his boot propped on the seat of the chair next to the table, he prods at the hole in his pants and winces slightly. He reaches down for something and it’s then you notice the massive knife dangling from his hip. You don’t know how you’d missed it earlier, but you’re well aware of it now.

He unsheathes the silver blade, tucking the tip beneath the hem of his pant leg before dragging it upward and slicing the length of his pants. Your nostrils flare, your eyes taking in every inch of Negan’s exposed leg and the rivulets of dried blood coagulating in the coarse hairs blanketing the flesh.

You watch with rapt interest when Negan slips the knife into his mouth, his teeth clicking against the steel when he grips the blade between them. Something about the sight of him holding that knife in his mouth appeals to you, and you clench your thighs ever harder, hoping to alleviate the throbbing burn blooming in your core.

Negan picks up the roll of gauze from the table, swiftly wrapping it around his gaping wound before using the knife to cut the portion of bandage from the roll and tie it off tightly. He looks up at you then, catching you red-handed as you practically drool over the man.

“You really gettin’ all hot and bothered over a little leg showing?” Negan jokes, gesturing to the wide opening revealing his long limb. “I can see you squirming from all the way over here.”

Something in Negan’s tone darkens and you can feel the electricity crackling between you. He meets your eyes, twirling the considerable blade in his hand as he sidles over to you. The closer he gets, the more your eyes flick back and forth from his face to the knife dangling from his fingers, and he takes note of your preoccupation with the weapon.

“What, are you afraid of me, doll? Afraid I’m gonna hurt you? I told you I wouldn’t,” he murmurs, before a thought seems to occur to him. “ _Ohh_ , I see. You really are into some kinky shit, then, huh?”

Negan brandishes the blade gracefully, swishing it back and forth through the air between the two of you. He pays close attention to your reaction, seeing every nuance and twitch in your expression; noting the way your eyes darken and your lips part when he slides a palm around the side of your neck to cradle the back of your head while massaging his thumb along your jaw.

“Filthy,” he groans, pressing the sharp edge of the cold steel to the delicate skin that stretches over your jugular.

Negan applies just enough pressure for the blade to dig uncomfortably into your flesh, though not enough to break the skin. The gesture turns you on more than you care to admit, the mere thought that he could kill you with a single, skilled slice wreaking havoc on your body.

“Please,” you whisper, unsure what it is that you’re asking for.

The soft utterance spurs Negan into action; keeping the knife pressed to your throat, he whips you around with careful precision and slams your body into the wall. Threading his slender fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, he wrenches your head back, exposing the length of your throat to him. Yanking your hair, he forces you to meet his eyes, his pupils dilating when you push back against the blade and a single stream of blood trickles over your collarbone.

“How bad do you want it?” Negan snarls, tightening his fingers against your burning scalp.

“Want what?” you tease.

Laughing humorlessly, Negan leans in to nip at your ear as he presses his knife more firmly to your oozing cut. “Don’t play games with me, baby. I could slit your pretty little throat and take you while you bleed to death, but where’s the fun in that?”

“Do it,” you scoff weakly, daring to taunt Negan.

His upper lip twitches in agitation though you notice the way he presses his hips into you, alerting you to the thick, hard length of his erection. The tension between you grows and grows until it reaches it’s boiling point and Negan snarls at you as he pounces.

Whipping his knife across the room, it hits the floor with a metallic clatter as he brackets his hands around your face and pulls you into a harsh kiss. He attacks your mouth; pulling, biting, and sucking at your lips until you’re both breathless.

When he finally pulls away, he refuses to release you, instead tilts your head back to plant several sharp bites along your neck before sucking at the skin and undoubtedly leaving a trail of hickies in his wake.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Negan barks, his fingers tensing and loosening in your hair as he fights to contain himself.

“Yes,” you pant, pressing your body against Negan’s as you stand on your toes to inch your lips closer to his.

“You can do better than that,” he grins, his words strained. “Ask nicely.”

“Negan, please fuck me,” you cajole, fisting your hands in his t-shirt to pull him closer and plant a sloppy kiss on his mouth.

He pushes you away, planting your body firmly against the wall once more as he tilts his hips away from you. “Take my belt off,” he demands smoothly.

You obey immediately, releasing your hold on his shirt to reach for his belt. You unlatch the buckle and slip the thick leather through the belt loops to remove the strap. It drops to the floor with a dull thud and you look up to Negan for approval.

“Keep going,” he rasps, intently watching your every move.

Your hands vibrate slightly as you pop open the button of his pants and ease the zipper down, purposely moving slowly to torture Negan. Spreading the opening of his loosened pants, you brush your fingers along the waistband of his underwear, slipping your fingertips through the trail of hair leading up his abdomen.

Negan stops you, pulling your hands away from his crotch and instructing you not to touch him. He unfastens your jeans then, nearly rending the article of clothing in half as he yanks it roughly down to your thighs. Telling you to remove your shoes and step out of your bunched pants, Negan takes a step back, groping his growing erection as he watches you follow his directions.

“Well?” you implore sassily, standing before Negan with your white panties on full display.

“God, your fuckin’ mouth makes me wanna smack your ass until it’s bright red,” Negan grinds out through clenched teeth as he advances on you, taking hold of your elbow. “I don’t think I can hold out long enough to do that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

With that, Negan bends you over the table and hikes the back of your shirt up to your shoulder blades. Reaching for the closure of your bra, he pops it open and lets the cups dangle away from your chest. He sneaks one hand beneath you, wrapping his fingers around an exposed breast to pinch your hardened nipple. Negan makes good use of his other hand, unexpectedly swatting it against your panty-clad ass.

“Oh!” you cry in surprise.

You try to pull away from the stinging contact, though you only earn a second slap against your smarting backside. This time you expect the blow, but you still flinch when Negan’s wide palm hits your flesh. He repeats the action several times, his other hand still occupied as he massages your breasts.

Negan slips his hand away from your chest, reaching up to circle your throat with surprising gentleness as he braces an elbow beside you and leans over your angled body. The hand he’d used to spank you settles on your ass, soothing the sore flesh with soft circles as his drawled words rumble against the column of your neck.

“I’d love to give you a thorough punishment, but I’m more interested in what you’ve got between those shakin’ thighs,” Negan purrs, his hand slipping down to run his fingers over your slit through the material of your damp underwear. “Aw, you soaked right through your panties, baby. Guess we’d better take them off.”

The sympathetic, placating tone Negan uses somehow turns you on more and you can only imagine how much wetter your panties are now. You gasp when Negan presses the tips of his fingers more firmly against your drenched folds, causing you to stand on your toes at the pleasurable contact. He removes his touch then, instead tucking his fingers under the waistband of your panties as he peels them away from your damp body.

“Well shit, would you look at that,” Negan chortles, crouching down and tapping your ankles so you step out of your panties. “What a fuckin’ mess.”

With a hand splayed across your lower back, he holds you in place and tosses your discarded underwear onto the table in front of you, forcing you to look at the way your arousal blatantly shows through the thin, skimpy material.

Negan catches you off guard then, plunging the two middle fingers of his dominant hand between your thighs to sweep through your swollen folds. He swirls his fingertips around your sensitive clit with agonizingly slow and tight circles, ratcheting your state of arousal with each pass of his fingers.

“Please, Negan. Please,” you beg, your head tipping forward as you brace your forehead on your arms stretched out in front of you.

“What, baby?” he coos, continuing to torture you with his inadequate touch.

“I need you inside me,” you whimper.

Negan fulfills your request, though you know he misinterprets the meaning intentionally as he plunges his fingers inside you rather than giving you what you really want. Regardless, you focus on the pumping of his skilled fingers, your muscles twitching in response to the way they curl and slide within you. You reach beneath your body, intent on applying pressure to your neglected clit, though Negan swiftly slaps your hand away, denying you access to your own body.

“Don’t touch yourself,” he scolds, his hand slowing to a leisurely pace as he continues fingering you. “Whatever you want, you need to ask for it first. You need my permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you whine, willing to do anything Negan asks just to have him inside you.

“Now tell me what you need,” he commands.

“I need you to fuck me,” you admit instantly, groaning in complaint when Negan slips his fingers from within you, leaving you empty and wanting.

“Good girl,” he praises, landing a sharp slap against your pussy before he turns you around to face him.

When you glance up at Negan, he looks down his pointed nose at you, observing you for a moment as his pink tongue sweeps over his lips. Without speaking, he tilts his head downwards, silently gesturing for you to remove his pants. Wasting no time, you shove Negan’s pants off his hips, dragging his black boxer briefs with them. You can’t help the way your mouth waters at the sight of his thick cock, nor the way you quickly wrap your hand around his girth.

Before you can pump your hand along his length, Negan rips your hands away from his body and lifts you off your feet before dropping into the chair beside you. He holds you against him, forcing you to straddle his lap as the rough material of his half-removed pants rubs against your tender backside. You swivel your hips, boldly grinding your dripping folds against the throbbing length of his swollen cock and crushing his length between your bodies.

Negan throws his head back, moaning at the heat of your cunt dragging along the sensitive bumps and ridges of his manhood. He revels in the sensation for only a moment before his strong hands squeeze your hips and force you to halt your movements. With your hands gripping Negan’s broad shoulders, you push and pull against his hold, trying to goad him into fucking you.

“What did I tell you?” he admonishes, lifting a hand to slap your ass in warning. “You ask me for what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out impatiently, practically bouncing childishly in Negan’s lap.

Negan pulls you closer, planting his lips against your cheek to speak lowly into your ear. “Are you sure?” he implores, fingers massaging your hips as you wriggle atop his thighs. “What about what I want, huh? Because I want nothing more than to bury my face between those pretty thighs and get a taste of that sweet pussy. But if you wanna climb up here and ride my cock, I won’t stop you.”

“Please, need you inside me,” you moan brokenly, nearly in tears with want.

“Greedy little girl,” he huffs with a lascivious smile as you continue writhing in his arms. “Fine, but next time, I’m gonna see to it that I’m well acquainted with every inch of your body.”

You merely groan in response, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you try to subtly shift your needy pussy closer to Negan’s pulsing cock. On the verge of exploding if you don’t get what you want in the next few seconds, you dig your fingers into Negan’s slick, dark hair and pull harshly against the short locks, letting him know you’re growing impatient. He growls in response, hiking you further up on his lap and lifting your body off of his thighs.

“Put me inside you,” Negan snaps, clearly just as fed up as you are with this game of push and pull.

Not needing to be told twice, you reach between your bodies, taking Negan’s hot, hard length in your hand as you direct the tip of his cock towards your sodden entrance. You gasp softly when the blunt head of his dick presses to your sensitive flesh, taking a moment to brace yourself before you slowly lower your weight, easing Negan’s rigid cock into your clenching body.

When you’re fully seated in his lap, your pussy swallowing every inch of Negan, your thighs squeeze around him as a wave of ecstasy ripples through your body. He gives you a moment to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you to your limits before he braces his wide palms just under your ass and lifts you, forcing your body to slide up and down his solid length.

“Fuck, Negan,” you squeal, unprepared for the sensations coursing through your core as his veiny cock hits all the right spots.

An animalistic grunt slips from Negan’s lips when you clench your inner muscles around him, and his fingers dig so deeply into the flesh of your ass that you’re sure you’ll have bruises come tomorrow. You repeat the motion again, glorifying in the pleasured sounds it produces from the powerful man beneath you.

“Take what you want, babygirl,” Negan groans stiffly, his hands settling along the outsides of your thighs as he lets you take control.

Rolling your hips fluidly, you slide your heat along Negan’s length, lifting your body almost all the way off of his cock before dropping forcefully into his lap. Your fingers card through his sweat-dampened hair and you hold onto him as you take your pleasure into your own hands, racing towards your orgasm while Negan tips his head back and lets you use him. Leaning forward, you latch your lips onto the salty skin of Negan’s neck, suckling against his throat between heady moans and soft cries. Occasionally, Negan lifts his hips, matching your rhythm as he nears his own climax.

On a particularly pointed thrust, Negan’s cock bumps your cervix and you call out, pulling harder than you’d meant to on his short hair. Negan yowls in pain, retaliating by lurching forward and biting over-enthusiastically at your shoulder, his teeth digging so painfully into your flesh, you’re sure he’s broken the skin. Acting on instinct, you pull away from Negan’s mouth and flex your arm back to slap him across the cheek. The moment your palm makes contact with his face, you regret the action, knowing that you’re going to pay for what you’ve just done.

You look down, seeing Negan’s eyes shut and you assume he’s trying to compose himself and reign in his anger before he acknowledges your bold move. You can feel his body vibrating beneath you, taut and tense as a heavy silence surrounds you. When Negan’s eyes flick open, you nearly cum instantaneously at the scalding fire in his golden eyes.

“Do that again,” he requests with a guttural croak, nostrils flaring and jaw incredibly tight. You hesitate for a moment, thinking that Negan’s terse words are merely a challenge, daring you to be audacious enough to strike him again. “Fucking hit me again.”

Unsure and slightly confused, you don’t want to get yourself into anymore trouble so you obey. You crack your hand across Negan’s cheekbone once more, though not as hard as you had the first time. The impact is met with a throaty groan from Negan who begins pushing and pulling against your hips, encouraging you to resume your steady rhythm as you ride him.

Heeding Negan’s instruction, you hit him several more times, spacing the slaps out so as not to actually hurt him. When Negan wraps an arm around your lower back and shifts frantically beneath you, you know he’s nearing his climax and you land a walloping slap across his face. The impact snaps his head to the side and he practically roars with satisfaction.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” Negan forces out, giving you only a few moments to decide whether you want him to cum inside you.

Opting out of that, you push yourself off of him, climbing backwards to drop at Negan’s feet. Situating yourself between his thighs, you immediately take his slick cock between your lips, sucking determinedly along the velvety flesh. You can taste a mixture of Negan’s essence and your own and you moan at the mingling flavor. Negan’s hips lift of their own accord and he buries his hands in your hair as you suck him straight into a potent orgasm.

With only a low, keening groan as a warning, Negan’s thick cum splashes against the back of your throat, filling your damp mouth with his release as he thrashes above you. When the hot spurts finally cease, you pull away, slurping lewdly and licking your lips as you let some of Negan’s seed slip out of your mouth and down your chin. Before you have a chance to make a sly comment, Negan grabs you under your arms, flips you around, and tugs you back into his lap.

Your back is pressed to the damp shirt clinging to Negan’s sweaty chest and he slips a hand between your thighs right away. With your arms pinned in place by the force with which he pulls you into him, you can’t reach up to swipe at the drops of his cum still dripping from your face. Though that fact seems irrelevant when Negan’s fingers delve inside you without preamble, your slick folds allowing him easy access as he rushes you towards your own climax with his pounding fingers. You try to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, but Negan threads a sinewy arm around your midsection, his steeled muscles easily holding you in place.

“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” he asks rhetorically, his palm brushing against your swollen clit and causing a series of strong quakes to sweep through you. “Go ahead, I know you want to. Cum all over my fingers, cum for me.”

“Negan!” you screech, unable to ask him to stop as you flail wildly in his arms, though you can’t seem to free yourself no matter how much you try.

“Let it go, I’ve got you,” he encourages, showing no signs of slowing his brutal pace as his squelching fingers continue to hammer into your pliable body.

A hoarse scream claws it’s way up your throat, echoing off the walls of the trailer as a crippling orgasm rips through your body. Your thighs slam shut around Negan’s wrist, trapping his hand against you and his fingers deep inside your rippling pussy. You continue moaning, not caring how loud you’re being as Negan shifts his fingers within you, brushing against your g-spot and sending you into the throes of a second orgasm before you’ve fully come down from your first.

The stimulation gets to be too much and you shove insistently against Negan’s forearm, finally prompting him to let you go. As you slither bonelessly from his lap, his fingers slip from your spent body and you drop into a heap at his feet. Unable to hold yourself up, you lean back between Negan’s thighs, pressing your spine against the side of his leg as your rest your cheek against his warm thigh, paying no mind to the the drying cum still on your face that’s now smearing across his skin. The sound of your panting breaths overlap one another as you both attempt to recover from your orgasms.

Once Negan gathers himself enough to move, he lifts a hand, running his dexterous fingers through your damp hair in a soothing manner. You shut your eyes and sigh contentedly at the comforting sensation. He cradles your skull in his large hand, massaging your scalp as he lets you get your bearings.

After a few minutes, Negan gently lifts your head from his thigh and stands to readjust his clothing. Before you can complain, he drops beside you on the ground and gathers you in his arms, shifting you into his lap. Laying your head on his shoulder, you’re too exhausted to protest his affectionate gesture and merely settle against his body. As you sit there, it occurs to you that there seems to be even more walkers outside the door than there were before. Negan appears to share your thought process as he turns towards the sound.

“Looks like we won’t be getting out of here any time soon with all the goddamn noise you just made,” he accuses playfully.

You lift your head, ready to hit Negan with a sassy comeback but he hushes you instantly, pressing a single finger to his lips with a sly smile. Shaking your head at him, you tuck your head against his chest, trying not to let yourself enjoy the feeling of his arms surrounding you too much.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally have the chance to leave the trailer and you have to decide what to do with your freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a re-post as I previously deleted this story and it also appears on AO3 as an orphaned work.)

The sensation of Negan’s fingers dragging up and down the inside of your damp thighs eases you from your sleepy stupor. Shifting in his lap, you decide your current position is just a tad too intimate for comfort and you extract yourself from his clutches. For someone as cold and callous as Negan, the idea of cuddling is something you’d never expected for him to even comprehend. However, something about the way his hands linger as you climb to your feet tells you that he’s starved for affection.

You stumble on wobbly legs, locating your discarded jeans and bending over to grab them off the floor. When you straighten up, you press a clammy hand to your forehead as your vision blurs and the room spins a bit. Exhaling softly, you brace your hand on the wall and steady yourself as you wait for the wave of dizziness to pass.

“What’s wrong?” Negan asks, seeming concerned as he sits up straighter against the wall.

“Rush of blood to the head,” you quip with a smirk, letting him know that you’re fine.

“Yeah, me too…except mine is the other head,” Negan deadpans as he gestures to his crotch.

Unable to stop the bubbly laugh, you find yourself pleasantly amused by Negan’s crude sense of humor for once. Whipping your wrinkled jeans out in front of you, you unfurl the bunched material before leaning over to slip your foot into the leg of your pants. As much as you aren’t looking forward to going commando, you know it’s not worth replacing your soaked underwear.

“So I guess this is the part where one of us pulls the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card and we never talk again, right?” Negan jokes as he rolls to his feet, not bothering to fasten his loose pants.

You gulp nervously, trying to yank your jeans up and over your bare thighs and ass, suddenly feeling the need to be covered as Negan approaches. You’re too late, however, and before you can fully dress yourself, Negan turns you away from him and angles his body to scan his eyes over your backside. A shiver rattles your body when he runs his fingers lightly over your sore ass and hums in contentment.

“I look good on you,” he concludes, pressing his thumb against what you assume is a bruise already forming on your flesh. “If it were up to me, that tight ass would always wear my mark.”

Twirling you back around to face him, Negan assists you in wrenching your constricting jeans over your hips before raising a hand and trailing his touch around the edges of the swelling bite mark peeking out from the neckline of your t-shirt. You wince slightly when he touches it and an unpleasant burning emanates from the wound. He watches you closely, shifting his fingers to the small cut on the opposite side of your neck before bending to press his warm lips to the tiny laceration.

“They hurt?” he murmurs, giving one last look at your injuries before he meets your eyes.

“Not really,” you rasp, pausing to clear your tightening throat. “Just burn a little, mostly.”

“Uh huh,” he remarks shortly, quirking an eyebrow.

Negan’s eyes are abruptly dark and distant and you imagine his mind reeling, replaying just how you’d acquired your injuries. You watch him for a moment before clearing your throat again to bring him back to the present. Blowing out a breath through his nose, Negan passes by you, patting your ass gently as he bends over to grab his leather jacket from where he’d left it last night. He pulls the heavy garment over his shoulders as he paces towards the door while you slip your boots back onto your feet.

Peering out the window, he looks in both directions then leans back and settles against the wall to look back at you where you stand, struggling to re-clasp your bra. He lets you fight with the unruly garment for a while before his deep chuckle reaches your ears.

“Need some help?” he implores, making no effort to mask his amused smile.

“Not if you’re gonna laugh at me,” you pout though you walk towards him anyway.

When you reach Negan where he’s propped against the wall, you turn your back to him. You try to ignore the warmth of his hands under your shirt as he connects the sides of your bra, though when his fingertips linger along your spine, you have no choice but to acknowledge his touch. Inching away from him, you stand on your toes to look out the window of the door.

“Looks like they’re starting to thin out a little at least,” you observe, hearing Negan’s hum of agreement from beside you.

“If we wait 'em out a while longer we’ll be able to push through them and get inside,” he adds.

Glancing up at Negan, you find yourself not really wanting to leave this weird little bubble you’ve existed in for the last two days. Quickly ridding your brain of the stupid and illogical thought, you tear your eyes away from Negan’s piercing gaze. You know how transparent your emotions are and given how perceptive he is, it would take no more than a single look at your face for him to see your doubt. Not wanting to give him the chance to persuade you, you refuse to meet his eyes, though you can feel his eyes burning into you.

Ignoring his gaze, you begin to plan, thinking about what you’re going to do when you get out of here. You have no idea how or if you’ll be able to make it back to Alexandria, plus you don’t even know if that’s your best bet. Considering the way Rick had ambushed and killed Negan’s men, perhaps remaining on that side won’t end well for you when Negan retaliates. Then again, if you stay here, there’s no guarantee Negan won’t finally kill you the first chance he gets. Or Rick will return and slaughter everyone here, yourself included if you choose to stay. It dawns on you then that you just might be officially fucked.

Unbeknownst to you, Negan watches you closely from his position at your side. He sees every crinkle of your brow and twitch of your lips as you do some deep thinking. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he studies your internal battle, having a fairly good idea what you’re thinking about.

“What’s goin’ through that pretty little head?” he murmurs, interrupting your moment of reflection. “I can hear the wheels turnin’ up there.”

Finally turning your attention back to Negan, your mouth falls open as you try to find the right words to voice your current conflict. Arguing with yourself about whether or not it’s worth opening up to Negan and revealing your vulnerability, your mouth quivers with the unspoken words caught in your throat. Unsure of yourself, you do the first thing you can think of to deflect and grab the lapels of Negan’s jacket to pull him into a firm kiss.

He allows you to press your lips to his for a moment before he takes control. Sliding a hand through your hair, he pulls you closer and tilts your head back, allowing him better access to your mouth. Just before you let yourself really melt into the kiss, Negan backs off.

“You’re worried about how you’re gonna survive out there,” he states, not bothering to phrase it as a question because he knows he’s right.

You hesitate a moment before nodding your head. “You’ll kill me if I go back to Rick. And I don’t have any way to defend myself if I go off alone.”

Negan blinks several times and licks his lips slowly as he considers your concerns. “You can have your gun back…and the hatchet. But only if you come work for me. _With_ me,” he offers, noticing your apprehension. “You’re more than welcome to leave, but you’ll never make it back to your people on your own.”

Slightly insulted by Negan’s comment, you furrow your brow and tilt your head. Seeing your response, he’s quick to defend himself, trying to assure you that he hadn’t meant to offend you.

“Hey, I ain’t sayin’ you aren’t a tough little shit,” he amends. “It’s just a fact. It’s a goddamn shitshow out there…I probably wouldn’t even make it. But there are other options, you know.”

“Yeah, like what?” you wonder with a knowing smile. “I let you take me out…save the biters the trouble?”

Negan chuckles at your jest, tipping his head back as he laughs. “You can stay. I mean it when I tell you that you would do well here. And I’m not gonna kill you…unless you give me a reason to.“

You briefly ponder Negan’s invitation and nearly accept before your pride gets in the way. It would be a betrayal for you to turn to Negan’s side. You can’t do that to the people who had taken you in, protected you, and helped keep you alive. You can’t be that kind of person. Being with Negan just isn’t an option.

"You know I can’t do that,” you argue weakly, shaking your head. “Tell you what though…if you return my weapons, I’ll show you how grateful I am for all your generosity and then we can go our separate ways.”

The purred words spill from your lips like molasses as you reach for Negan’s crotch, wrapping your hand around the soft bulge of his flaccid cock. He begins to harden almost immediately, helpless to resist your touch. You grip him harder, catalyzing his growing erection and prompting a deep groan from his throat. Just when you think you’ve got him, Negan takes your wrist in a harsh grip and pulls your hand from between his legs.

“I don’t want a 'thank you’,” he growls, advancing on you and pushing you into the center of the trailer until your ass hits the edge of the table. “I want a 'yes’. A very loud and enthusiastic one, preferably. Maybe I can sway you.”

“Negan, you don’t have to do that,” you placate, your voice wavering as he lifts you onto the surface of the table.

“Ah ah,” he chides, pressing a finger to your lips and halting any further protest. “Don’t talk back. Remember when I told you I wanted to familiarize myself with every inch of your body? Well, I’m nothing if not a man of my word, doll.”

Not allowing you a chance to argue the point, Negan pushes you back until you’re sprawled across the table, unfastens your jeans, and lifts your hips to slide the denim down your legs. He pops your boots off your dangling feet and adds your jeans to the pile growing on the floor.

Continuing his endeavor to rid you of all your clothing, Negan whips your t-shirt over your head and takes your bra with it. You lean on your elbows as goosebumps spread over every inch of your skin, due in part to the slight chill in the open air of the trailer and the unmatched power dynamic of Negan hovering over your nude form while still fully clothed.

He steps closer to you, his warm palms resting on your bare thighs as he gently parts your legs and wedges himself between them. His thumbs rub soothingly into the flesh of your thighs and you can already feel yourself growing wetter by the second. When Negan glides his hands up your torso to cup your breasts, you let out a soft moan, letting your body fall backwards against the table.

“You gotta keep quiet,” he warns as he removes his jacket and adds it to your pile of discarded clothing. “If you make an assload of noise again, those dead fucks are gonna stick around and we don’t have enough food or water to last us more than a day in here. My ass is gonna shrivel up and die before anyone can get to us if we don’t get outta this shithole today.”

Finished with his rant, Negan returns to his position between your spread thighs. He walks his fingers up the tops of your legs until he reaches the apex of your thighs and stops just centimeters away from where you want him to touch you. You lift your hips towards him, letting him know what you want, though you know Negan will never let you have your way that easily.

“You want something, honey?” he mocks, refusing to move his hands any closer to your sodden center.

“Please…touch me,” you plead.

“What, here?” Negan hisses, shifting his hand so that his thumb swirls firmly against your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yes!” you cry, raising your hips to get closer to the sensation of Negan’s touch.

He stops his ministrations immediately, reaching up to shove his damp thumb between your parted lips and force you to taste yourself. “Shhh,” he soothes, using his thumb to wrench your mouth open.

You swirl your tongue around his thumb before closing your mouth to suck on the slender digit. Meeting Negan’s eyes, your eyes beg him to touch you, to give you what you want and let you cum. For a moment, you forget that this is Negan’s game and you play by his rules, but he’s sure to remind you of that.

Adding a second finger to the humid recesses of your mouth, he allows you to coat them in your saliva before sliding them from your mouth. Using his slippery fingers, he presses his thumb to your clit while slipping the other along your wet slit and driving it shallowly into your body.

You barely contain the noises that want to leave your mouth, biting down on your lip to silence your pleasured sounds. Negan’s finger delves deeper into you, twisting and curling inside you as he massages your walls and continues circling your clit. You’re already shivering and writhing, well on your way to an orgasm; Negan torments you, never letting you get close enough to tip over that edge.

Before long, Negan curls his body over yours and presses his lips to your clavicle. With his fingers still gliding smoothly into your dripping pussy, Negan’s lips travel lower. He kisses your chest, nipples, sternum, and just below your ribs; simultaneously tickling you and setting you so on fire with need that you’re ready to say fuck it and push him to the floor.

Negan teases you further then, leaving soft kisses along your stomach and across your hips. His plush lips skim over your mound, though he leaves you wanting when he purposely keeps his attentions away from your core. When he pulls his fingers from your clenching cunt and slurps your juices from them, you’re sure that he’s finally going to put an end to his torture. How wrong you are, though.

Just when you think you can’t take any more, Negan pushes you even further. Bent over your legs while speaking lowly and pausing between every few words to trail wet kisses along either of your thighs, he taunts you. “Let’s see…how long…it takes…for you…to give in,” he drawls, his eyes locked onto yours from between your legs.

Your chest heaves as you pant, watching Negan move closer to your soaked pussy as you mentally scream for him to put his mouth between your legs. Making sure that your eyes are on him, Negan finally relents, pressing his lips to your drenched folds. You manage to keep your moaning to a minimum until Negan’s hot tongue slips out, licking a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. The motion is met with a long, high-pitched squeal from you and Negan immediately slaps a palm against your inner thigh.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he rumbles, mouth still pressed against your core.

“I-I’m sorry,” you apologize, earning another determined sweep of Negan’s tongue as you try your best not to be loud. “Fuck, Negan…I can’t.”

He ignores your words, swirling the tip of his tongue around your clit as he watches you fight yourself. “Give me the answer I want and I’ll make you cum so fast, you won’t have time to make any noise.”

“Negan, please,” you sob, barely clinging to your sanity.

Refusing to give in to your whimpering and begging, Negan wraps his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks gently. Your whole body tenses and a strained squeak leaves your lips as your back arches and your reach down to grip Negan’s hair. Your fingers flex against his scalp and you can’t tell if you’d rather push him away or pull him closer. The moment you feel your orgasm about to crash over you, Negan pulls his mouth from your cunt with a wet pop, denying you your climax.

“If you cum before I get my answer, I’m going to keep making you cum until you can’t any more,” Negan threatens, his harsh and filthy words doing nothing to deter you from getting your orgasm.

“I wanna cum,” you whine, not caring about the consequences of your decision.

Without another word, Negan slips two fingers inside your pussy, driving them forcefully against you as his lips descend on you again. He ravishes you with his mouth, sucking, slurping, and nipping at you as if you’re his last meal. It takes only a few strokes of his skilled tongue against your clit before your body feels like it’s exploding and your orgasm rocks your body. Your walls grip Negan’s fingers, impeding his swift pace as your body tries to hold his hand captive.

Before you have a chance to recover, Negan is already pounding his slicked fingers deep inside you; his mouth feasting on your sensitive pussy as he licks up every drop of cum he’d forced from you. A keening cry makes it’s way from your throat, though you’re quick to stop the sound before it increases in volume. Hard as you try to slide away from Negan’s relentless mouth, he pins you down with one hand and makes good on his promise to make you cum until you lack the energy to do so.

You lose track of how many orgasms Negan has squeezed from your body and how many times you’ve squirted, coating his hand and face in your slick juices. All you know is that you’re beyond sated, far past exhausted, and well on your way to passing out if Negan even thinks about touching you again.

“Please, Negan…no more,” you cry, tears streaming from your eyes as he swipes the collar of his damp t-shirt across his dripping chin.

“I warned you,” he states coldly, merely touching a finger to your sore clit and earning a full body twitch and a sharp yelp from you. “You’re gonna give me one more, and then I’m gonna fuck you until you cum again.”

Practically sobbing at the prospect, you’re too weak and drained to put up much of a fight. You try to hold your heavy legs shut, but you’re no match for Negan’s strength as he wrenches them apart. His touch is surprisingly gentle, though none of that matters as any amount of contact is too much for your wrung-out body to handle. Somehow through the painful pleasure of over-stimulation, Negan manages to elicit yet another orgasm from you.

You get only a few seconds of reprieve while Negan lowers the pants already hanging off his hips and slips his hard cock out over the waistband of his pants. He’s clearly uninterested in any further foreplay as he can’t even bother undressing all the way. Pushing your thighs wide, Negan presses the blunt head of his dick to your used pussy. Only a tiny peep escapes you as you’re too far gone to do anything but lie there and take it.

Pumping his hips swiftly, Negan slides deep inside you with a single thrust. The thatch of hair at the base of his cock brushes against your tender clit and you hiss at the sensation. Determined to reach his own orgasm, Negan sets a steady, jostling pace right from the start. It doesn’t take him long to edge towards his climax and as he nears the precipice, his thumb sweeps intently over your clit while his other hand wraps around your throat.

“You know what I want, fuckin’ say it,” he demands, his fingers tightening around your windpipe and just beginning to limit the oxygen reaching your lungs.

“I can’t,” you weep, though with the way the feelings coursing through your body disable your ability to function, the words are barely intelligible.

“C'mon, baby. I know you can do it,” Negan prompts, fucking you harder and almost cutting off your air entirely until you surrender. “Just say the word. Say the fuckin’ word!”

Your body quakes and drool trails from your open mouth as you lose complete control. The formidable orgasm creeping up is going to wreck you and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Negan grows more and more crazed, his words taking on a desperate edge and the force of his thrusts nearly tip over the table you’re settled on.

“Tell me you’re gonna stay,” he howls furiously. “Tell me you’re mine!”

“Yes! Fuck, yes!” you wail, ultimately yielding to Negan’s desire just to relieve yourself of this torture as your bones practically snap with the tension that grasps your entire body.

Negan is set off by your strong climax and he unleashes a feral grunt as he nears his own release. With no warning and lacking the wherewithal or proper state of mind to stop him, by the time the thick fog in your head clears, you already feel Negan’s cum coating your insides. The thick, hot ropes spray forcefully along your walls and your body heaves at the continued assault on your frayed nerves.

Collapsing on top of you, Negan’s breath puffs across your face as he pants heavily. It takes him much longer to recover this time and when he does, the feeling of his softening cock slipping from your filled hole nearly makes you cry. Adjusting his pants with shaky fingers, Negan offers you a hand and pulls you into a seated position. The movement causes his seed to spill from your body and drip onto the table below you.

“Hell of a welcome gift,” he jests, his fingers slipping through the oozing cream as he rubs the moisture into your swollen, sensitive folds.

It takes you a moment to register his words and when you do, you remember that you’d agreed to Negan’s request though you have no intention of actually following through. When you’re confident you won’t collapse into a heap on the floor, you eventually hop off the table. Gathering your clothes, you haphazardly pull them on over your worn body.

Negan approaches you then, offering you your promised weapons as his bat swings loosely at his side. You take the weapons, tucking the gun into your waistband as you hold the hatchet and make your way to the door. Surprisingly enough, only a couple of walkers remain and you mention as much to Negan. You share a meaningful look, aware that this is your one and only chance if you hope to get out of here alive.

Stepping in front of you, Negan wrenches the door open and leads the way. Going out first, he swings his bat at the first two walkers blocking the way. They drop to the ground quickly and he directs you forward, following close behind him as he holds his bat at the ready. From around a corner, a considerable group of walkers appear and you separate from Negan, flanking the group to take them down.

With Negan’s back turned to you as he aims for the last few walkers still standing, you know this is the perfect opportunity to get away. Jogging lightly, you put some distance between yourself and Negan, ensuring that you’re nowhere near him when he finally realizes you’ve disappeared. When you reach the gate, you turn around, watching Negan whip his head back and forth as he looks for you. Finally spotting you, his brow furrows in confusion and he holds his arms out in a gesture of wonder.

“The fuck are you doing?” he calls to you, though his words carry no anger.

Knowing that Negan’s injured leg will prevent him from catching up to you, you offer only a small wave in response. A look of understanding contorts his face and he nods slightly. Negan returns your wave with a sad smile and a quick salute as you turn to walk away, but his voice halts your steps.

“This ain’t over’, darlin’,” he yells, the weight of his promise carrying across the courtyard as you make your hasty exit.


End file.
